Movies You May Have Missed - Clockwatchers (1997)

I don't know why it took me more than 20 years to see Jill Sprecher's Clockwatchers in full, but life is full of mysteries and this is only one of many. Sprecher, working from a spare and quietly lacerating screenplay co-written with her sister Karen, created the temporary-employee office-noir two years before the much more lauded white-collar satire Office Space. Her stylish study on the de-humanization of the American workforce deserves more accolades, particularly because it stars a stellar cast of four women (Toni Collette, Parker Posey, Lisa Kudrow, Alanna Ubach) as office temps in corporate purgatory. Written and directed and starring women about womens' work experiences within the male-dominated capitalist system—I cannot for the life of me fathom why this cult film isn't more celebrated. What could possibly factor into that I wonder.

And now:

Shy, unassuming Iris (Collette) is a new temp within the insular putty-colored world of Global Credit. It's an environment ruled by the clock, to the point that Iris is completely ignored by the receptionist until 9 A.M. rolls around, wherein she's instructed to sit on a chair to await further instructions. Two hours of muzak-laden negligence later, she's reprimanded by the office scold (née manager) Barbara (Debra Jo Rupp) for following directions.

Anyone who's ever temped before will recognize this barely exaggerated scenario as base truth within the world of middle-management. And guess who's temped for years on end in countless office environments? That's right, me. So consider me your expert on the subject. Aren't you lucky I'm here to vouch for what appears surreal and heightened but is in actuality true in scope?

In the sterile confines of her new job in a town with no name, muzak is pumped overhead throughout the day to "boost productivity," barely concealing the buzz of fluorescent lighting and quiet desperation masquerading under polite social norms. Margaret (Posey, sharp and brilliant), a temp who's been around long enough to know all the slacker tricks to get through an eight-hour day, takes Iris on the dreaded "office tour." During which she meets all the office types who would also be parodied by Mike Judge in Office Space: the snitching rule-follower, the grinning golden boy, the patriarchal senior executive, the bossy fuss-budget, the vindictive phony, and the anal-retentive supply clerk (Stanley DeSantis as "Art," close cousin to Office Space's cult figure Milton, played by Stephen Root with similar mumbling weirdness). Is it possible Judge never saw Clockwatchers before making Office Space?–maaaaybe... U.S. office culture trends toward the universal. Still, Art and Milton are practically twins in schlub-brotherhood.

Margaret, who despite her grasping desire to be hired permanently, is styled slightly "off" for office culture, in keeping with her rebellious spirit: skirts a bit too short, shoes too casual and comfy. Decked in warm shades of red, her patterns and florals among the navy-blue power suits read like warning flags, signals about how not to get ahead in this stifling mono-culture.

Margaret recognizes the futility of identifying with your job when you're basically a file clerk. Still, she has a terrible work ethic and sucks up to power (gloriously) to get what she wants. She's a scammer par excellence and reminds me of many of the people I was attracted to in my 20s, in and outside of work.

Iris, among her new office pals, begins to bloom within the radiance of Margaret's sass. Soon-to-be-married perfectionist Jane (Ubach, with her huge eyes, a living anime in Chanel suits) and would-be man killer/actress wannabe Paula (Kudrow, flipping hair and attitude way back in '97) are exactly the kind of friends you make while temping—you have nothing in common but the dead-end job, but sometimes for the moment that's enough.

When small personal items go missing throughout the office, things take a dark, existentialist turn. Not that the entire enterprise wasn't dark or existentialist to begin with, but now the four temps, always on the peripheral of job status with their lack of benefits, paid days off, or ability to advance unless offered the coveted permanent position, become the number-one suspects.

Margaret suspects the new permanent hire, prematurely shriveled Cleo (Helen FitzGerald), lurking about, copying Iris' newly acquired beaded and floral styles, to be the thief. Margaret's fury at being passed over for permanent status, her belittling family and ongoing petty scams, along with the office's new security cameras, lack of privacy and suspicion of anyone outside the credit "family" begin to erode the tenuous social glue that holds the little group together.

A coup-in-the-making is plotted. The male executives continue to yelp orders or smile condescendingly, never learning the names of the young women who do their shit work for low pay. Although I always appreciated that temp work existed, allowing me to attend school and live in San Francisco among my fellow freaks, I'm here to tell you that this film is eerily accurate. I direct no blame to my former co-workers and managers, the majority of whom were working moms who needed a decent income to live in the Bay Area and raise their children. But office culture still frowns on individuality and free-thinking. This is a purgatory of stultifying boredom for an enforced eight-hour-day (most every job I temped could be done in less than three, but everyone was in denial).

A strident Margaret wants to burn the whole thing to the ground and start over. Who will join in? The film, a wise character-study as well as surreal satire, doesn't make that much of a suspenseful plot point on workers' rights. We can already see the group dynamic disintegrate in small, painful and emotional ways.

When you need a myriad of emotions from your lead actress, hire Toni Collette. We have to wait a while for Iris to take her stand, but it's worth it. A rare film about women's work and women's relationships and how they affect one another. Add it to your cult-film roster.

And now, to help with your productivity, I gathered some of the fine Clockwatchers office-muzak soundtrack for you to file your papers by. May you get permanent status and a letter of recommendation, always.

"Azure Sands" - Les Baxter




"Jalaba" - Les Baxter




"Magenta Mountain" - Les Baxter




"Theme from A Man Called Dagger" - Steve Allen




"Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" - Hugo Winterhalter & His Orchestra




And in keeping with any worthwhile soul-crushing existential office crisis, plenty of offerings from the Paris Musette.

The heightened cartoon-brilliant art direction of "Dick" (1999)

Has anyone checked in with Dick lately? Directed by Andrew Fleming from a script by Fleming and Sheryl Longin, starring young Michelle Williams and even younger Kirsten Dunst as endearingly dumb best friends, Dick came and went in 1999.

Mashing together the teen comedy with political satire is a challenging task and Dick struggles with its premise, especially attempting to answer the question of who is the audience for this movie: Teens living on the cusp of the 21st century, who have little to no knowledge of the Watergate scandal and its myriad of corrupt players? Adults who lived through the 1970s, watching as intrepid journalists and the legal branch took down paranoid would-be despot Richard Milhouse Nixon? No one was sure how to market this one for maximum audience.

One aspect of this film is crystal clear in its premise and its execution—the art direction by Lucinda Zak, who took all that was hideous, deformed, brilliantly muddy and wrong-headed about 1970s style and ran straight down the field for touchdown after touchdown with it. If you're looking for a feast of 70s oddities for the eyes, this is your movie; sit back and enjoy.

A slew of amazing comedy talent co-starred as historical figures of the Nixon White House era, including Will Ferrell as Bob Woodward, Bruce McCulloch as Carl Bernstein, Dave Foley as Bob Haldeman, Ana Gasteyer as Rose Mary Woods, Harry Shearer as G. Gordon Liddy, which is a comedy of riches, but then it's all topped off by Dan Hedaya just throwing himself into the role of Dick Nixon, plus the great Teri Garr as a Watergate-Hotel dwelling single mom who, like most of the adults in this would-be teen-comedy/political satire, has no idea what's going on under her very nose.

And now, Dick.

Title features a manual typewriter with psychedelic bubble font

Our protagonists, bubbly Betsy Jobs (Dunst) and her romantic best friend Arlene Lorenzo (Williams) are two high-school sophomores who can't wait to win a date with their idol Bobby Sherman. But when they sneak outside of Arlene's Watergate apartment's bedroom to mail in their contest entry, stumbling upon a late-night break-in, fate has other plans in store for them.

The detail in every upper middle-class set of this film is astonishing. Note Arlene's trendy TV and bedroom phone (both luxuries in the inflated 70s) alongside her crafty Bobby Sherman shrine.

According to the DVD commentary (yes, as a dedicated chronicler of obscure film history, I listened to that) a warehouse full of period-era polyester fabrics was discovered pre-production and so Dunst and Williams were treated to a wardrobe of custom-made clothes made from unbreathable synthetic fabrics—great way to get into character—the 70s were colorful but uncomfortable for most of us.

Some major polyester going on here

This is a cartoon version of the Watergate scandal, but perhaps that's what's needed after a dark political corruption storm of this magnitude. Wait, was I just describing the early 70s or today? Either way, over time, the sociopaths at the center of corruption tend to look more absurd (but just as creepy) with hindsight. And also, look at the 70s—this art direction is only a slight exaggeration of certain 70s concepts, and when I say slight, I mean the width of a polyester thread.

Betsy gets the "cool" history teacher and it shows in her presentation.

While poor Arlene gets the "uptight" teacher. This was the extreme cultural divide that we found ourselves in after the social upheaval of the 60s.

Betsy and Arlene are solidly upper middle-class and have plenty of leisure time to enjoy the latest in 70s fads and fashions. The last of the baby boomers, allowance-dollars in hand, had plenty of recreational and consumer activities to partake in. I don't know who on the film crew painted and lit this roller rink, but I want to shake your hand.

A typical (hyper-real) hip girl's room of the era. Canopy bed, lots of orange, textiles, pastels, brights, patterns, flowers and a collie lamp to add a touch of whimsy.

The heady days of trying to make sense of a world gone mad through the prism of girlhood friendship.

Featuring David Cassidy fandom. RIP.

Ana Gasteyer as Nixon's extremely dedicated secretary Rose Mary Woods.

Dick sets in motion a series of events that filter the Watergate scandal through the actions of two bumbling sub-intelligent girls. It's purposefully silly as hell, but the girls, as performed by Dunst and Williams, are endearing. And their dum-dum legacy is a sort of prequel to another cult film Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, which remains the pinnacle of dumb friendship movies as far as I'm concerned.

Nixon recorded everything he said—leading to the downfall of a paranoid would-be zealot

More polyester in our nation's capitol.

Ryan Reynolds, in one of many effective and very funny small roles, and a muscle car.

And here's a typical teen-boy room of the era. Trophies, plastic skulls, groovy love poster all framed in brown plaid (not shown: beer bong).

According to the DVD commentary, once Will Ferrell was on board playing straight-laced Bob Woodward to Bruce McCulloch's preening, narcissist Carl Bernstein, a flock of funny people joined the fray.

Best use of Yes's "I've Seen All Good People" in a scene of journalistic triumph

Comedy goddess Teri Garr, long may she reign.

This Watergate Hotel room cannot get any more 70s than this

Also on hand is Devon Gummersall as Betsy's stoner brother Larry, who might be the most insightful person in this satirical world, albeit while being very, very high.

Do you like brown? Then you'll love the 70s

Dan Heydaya firing all his guns as, at the time of filming, one of our freakiest most corrupt Presidents.

I would never make any effort to rehabilitate Nixon's image. He was a criminal, a freak, and deeply flawed on many levels. But the orange person currently residing in the White House makes Nixon look a lot more like an actual human. Sad.


Just here for the poncho in the foreground. My aunt made me one of these for Christmas one year and I was kicking it in second grade in my swinging poncho—thanks Auntie Joan.

A tight shot of a period department store demonstrates what creative art direction and a decent budget can accomplish.

For the girls, the Watergate conspiracy comes to its ultimate conclusion. At the mall. Which is very 70s.

So long, Dick.

In conclusion, I would like to see Kirsten Dunst and Ryan Reynolds do more comedy—they have the chops and they're both so effortlessly charismatic onscreen. I would also like to update Dick for the Trump era and I would call it Shit. But that's just a working title. And the story would begin in the 80s, because imagine the art direction!

The 1980s as horror-comedy muse in Mike Leigh's "High Hopes" (1988)

When Mike Leigh assembled one of his stellar ensemble casts to make High Hopes, the 80s were nearly done. Nearly but not quite. And their impact is a major theme throughout this muffled madcap domestic melee.

As in most Leigh ventures, we're unceremoniously dropped into the world of a family, in this case, the Benders. Cyril Bender (Phil Davis) and his girlfriend Shirley (Ruth Sheen) live in comfortable near-squalor in a tiny dark apartment full of Ruth's cacti and Cyril's political posters. The Iron Lady Maggie Thatcher makes a cameo here on their wall. Their largest, pointiest cactus is named after Thatcher for being such a "pain in the ass."

This is a film of contrasts and comparisons. Cyril is a motorcycle messenger, working alongside yuppie office drones, of which the 80s bred many. Shirley is a gardener, planting trees in small city parks and medians. Cyril's mum lives in a former council flat in a neighborhood now gentrified by yuppie scum, who'll we'll meet soon enough. Can you guess which townhouse belongs to Mrs. Bender? Leigh has always had a great eye for art direction to depict class and economic malaise.

Cyril's God-awful sister Valerie (Heather Tobias) and her misogynist husband Martin (Philip Jackson) are junk-bond nouveau-riche personified. Martin sells used cars and openly hates his wife. Valerie is desperate for his sexual attentions, but she'll just as energetically chase down material goods and even people in a doomed quest for status. These are such dreadful comedic characters and you might be tempted to disbelieve that such people could possibly exist, but take a look at the current U.S. President, who made his (mis)fortunes in the 80s. Martin could easily be a stand-in for the boorish fame-monger now occupying the White House.

Let's visit Valerie's attempt at a well-appointed home. With only the slightest exaggeration, we get a sense of 1980s wealth-obsessed tacky decor in two shots.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Bender's next-door neighbor, Madame yuppie-scum Laetitia (the always-great Leigh-stalwart Lesley Manville) is so very annoyed that her grubby little neighbor has locked herself out of her house.

Whenever I've imitated snobby British caricatures, I've sounded exactly like Laetia. I just never knew it until I saw this film. Once again, Leigh avoids tipping over into caricature entirely by simply being observant and honest of a certain type of upper-class sensibility of the time.

Mrs. Bender as seen from high above Laetia's steps. Mrs. Bender is losing her memory and her keys. Laetia would very much like her to go away and use a payphone to call a family member for help. I guess flipping a dime down the stairs would have devolved into caricature.

Back at Valerie's we're treated to her afternoon home-gym reverie.

I'm just including these for the 80s set design. Tops.

People really did dress like this to exercise. I'm sorry to say it was a fad.

Valerie could barely be bothered with her mum's predicament. She calls on Cyril, temporarily trapped within the uniformed office world, to fetch Mrs. Bender.

Laetia's husband Rupert (David Bambert), dripping with pretension, discusses oyster and steak lunches while treating Mrs. Bender like a pesky housefly that will hopefully let itself out the window sometime soon.

This would all be a real unbearable pit of (satirical) human waste-matter if it wasn't for Cyril and Shirley's playful relationship. They are in tune to leftist politics, the environment, and social concerns. When Wayne (Jason Watkins), a wayward lost soul with a mental disability wanders into their orbit, he at times subtly stands in for the child Shirley would like to have.

Cyril is not on board with child-rearing, citing excuses that many laid-back politicos over the ages have used: too many people on the planet, not enough resources, terrible world to bring new life into. The truth is he'd rather smoke pot and listen to Chuck Berry than deal with it.

The humanity of actress Ruth Sheen is a quiet delight. Her face projecting so many emotions within the span of moments.

Karl Marx's massive stone head makes its film debut as Cyril ponders how to do something of value in the world, when one feels inconsequential.

Hint: maybe don't smoke so much pot all the time.

One of Leigh's jittery ladies (a character trait featured in several of his films), Suzi (Judith Scott), visits their apartment, furthering the conversation of how to make positive change in a world run by wealthy power-hungry assholes. Her answer: go to meetings. Have discussions. Cyril scoffs, all sunk into his chair.

A surprise birthday party for Mrs. Bender at Valerie's single-family dwelling cannot bode well.

And it doesn't. Note the familiar hat. Costume designs by the sharp-eyed Lindy Hemming.

More of Valerie's house of misery (and you may feel for her if you watch her closely, as Leigh wants us to).

Leigh pioneered much of our current comedy of awkward social gatherings and uncomfortable embarrassment within misaligned pairings and groups.

In Leigh's industrialized modern world, grand gestures are most likely doomed and we can only hope for moments of humorous, affectionate connection between like-minded souls for any personal happiness. Not everyone has their thoughtful eyes on humanity within the modern world like Mike Leigh, but if you do, he's your cinematic man.